


Recovering

by nyromes



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Fingon, Cousin Incest, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Injury, Insecurity, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Past Violence, Post-Rescue from Thangorodrim, Recovery, Riding, Scars, Smut, Soul Bond, Soul Sex, Top Maedhros, Trust, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 03:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18730825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyromes/pseuds/nyromes
Summary: "You should have killed me then," Maedhros shattered the silence, and the fragments drew blood as they tore into the younger one’s lungs. "You should have cut my throat, not my wrist."His tone was tired but set, bearing down on the shards in Fingon’s chest. The dark-haired Elf brought his hand up to Maedhros’ shoulder, holding on as his breathing caught in his throat.He shook his head."I couldn’t," he whispered. "My heart would have died alongside yours."After his rescue from Thangorodrim, Maedhros is struggling to cope with the memories and with feelings of regret and self-doubt. Fingon, meanwhile, is doing what he can to help and reassure.





	Recovering

 

"You should not have to do this," Maedhros mumbled as Fingon set the emptied bedpan down beside the bed and moved to the washstand, reaching for the soap and lathering his hands. The older Elf’s voice was quiet – demure – yet it didn’t quite succeed in hiding the traces of frustration and shame that still lingered. The words fell heavily on the small room around them, and Fingon let them lie for several seconds before picking them up with his own. 

He looked down at his palms.

"I don’t," he replied eventually. "I do it because I want to." He poured water over his hands to rinse off the soap, then dried them off on a towel before turning around. "Though I could arrange for a servant if it would make you more comfortable." It was added more softly, a question as much as an offer, and Fingon felt relieved when Maedhros let it slide without a reaction.

The Fëanorian’s head was turned to the side, his gaze trained on an indeterminate point on the wall. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, the thin, frail structure of his frame wrapped up in a loose, light robe, and the stump of his right wrist dressed in fresh, clean bandages. His eyes were dark with shadows and his cheeks were sunken in, making the bones of his face stand out even more prominently under the almost translucently pale skin.

Almost two weeks after Thorondor had set them down in the Noldorin camp, Maedhros’ legs were still too weak to carry his weight, giving way without fight under the strain of simply standing up. 

Yet Fingon thought that beneath all the damage done to his cousin’s body, beneath the injuries and the wasted muscle, he could still see strength in Maedhros’ soul. He could still hear flickers of the Fëanorian’s pride breaking through in his words when he spoke. And despite the scars and the missing hand, Fingon still thought that his cousin was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. His heart still threatened to burst through his chest at the sight of him near, despite the sensation of pain that was now wrapped like wire around it.

He walked closer to the bed without a word, then moved to kneel behind the other’s back and carefully raised a hand to the wine-coloured curls of Maedhros’ long hair. He could feel Maedhros tense for a moment, his shoulders flinching, then the older one exhaled and took a shuddery breath before forcing his body to relax. Fingon swallowed an apology, aware that Maedhros would take it as an expression of pity, even if Fingon didn’t mean it as such.

Keeping his movements slow and steady, Fingon instead allowed his fingers to comb through the mess of wild locks, starting to smooth out the lengths and disentangle the knots. The hair that had once reached down past Maedhros’ hips in fiery red, blazing like flames in the light of the trees, now fell in a shade much darker, like blood, to the middle of his back. Fingon had tried to save as much of it as he could, but in the end he had been forced to cut off what had matted into irresolvable, dull felt. The remaining strands had lost much of their brightness and shine, but they still gleamed in Fingon’s hands like embers when he gathered them up and let them run through his grasp. 

Fingon closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the back of Maedhros’ skull, his hands continuing their work as he let himself breathe in the scent of Maedhros’ hair. It was tarnished with smoke, with the strong smell of burned flesh and iron. Yet underneath all that, Fingon thought he could still detect a hint of the scent that brought with it the memories of Valinor, of days spent training and hunting, and nights spent entangled and breathless, sharing desperate kisses in the hours of silence before the mingling of the light. He remembered the softness of Maedhros’ touch when he pulled him in for a kiss, as well as the rough, possessive grip on his hips when Maedhros slammed into him and groaned out his name. He remembered the warmth of Maedhros’ body against him, their skin damp with sweat and with seed, and Maedhros’ arms wrapped around him, keeping him close as Fingon listened to the sound of his heart. He used to braid Maedhros’ hair in the mornings and Maedhros would let him, though Fingon knew he preferred to wear his hair like a mane, unrestrained by clasps and ties. In return, Fingon had let his cousin weave soft ribbons of gold into his own raven hair. They were tied into his braids even now. He had worn them every day—even crossing the Ice.

Still enwrapped in the past, Fingon found himself mumbling the words without thought.

"I love you." It was quiet, a whisper, but none the less true.

The sound of Maedhros’ breathing faltered and he pulled away, and Fingon didn’t need to see to know the expression of pain on the Fëanorian’s face.

Fingon’s heart sank into his stomach as he waited for Maedhros to speak.

"You should have killed me then," Maedhros shattered the silence, and the fragments drew blood as they tore into the younger one’s lungs. "You should have cut my throat, not my wrist."

His tone was tired but set, bearing down on the shards in Fingon’s chest. The dark-haired Elf brought his hand up to Maedhros’ shoulder, holding on as his breathing caught in his throat.

He shook his head.

"I couldn’t," he whispered. "My heart would have died alongside yours."

His fingers trembled as he slid his other hand down Maedhros’ side and dropped his head between the older one’s shoulder blades. He could feel the vertebrae through the fabric of Maedhros’ robe, digging into his forehead as he pressed against him, and Fingon almost winced. The three words that he had spoken earlier hung heavily in the tension between them.  

The Fëanorian swallowed. "There is nothing left of me."

Fingon’s eyes filled with tears and he bit them back, shaking his head.

"You are here. You are here with me. I have not lost you yet."   

"I am changed."

Fingon kept shaking his head as he drew away and knelt at Maedhros’ side, reaching up to place his palm on the older one’s cheek. His eyes looked weary, still staring into empty space and refusing to meet Fingon’s own, but he turned his head at Fingon’s touch, submitting to his caress.

Moving carefully, Fingon leaned in and brushed his lips over Maedhros’ in a light, fleeting kiss. Their eyes fluttered closed and the moments passed by, the first kiss followed by more, all gentle and soft as their hearts realigned and Fingon’s hand came to rest on Maedhros’ arm. Maedhros opened his mouth, and Fingon felt the trembling of his breaths, heard the sound of his gasp as he let his tongue flick once across the sensitive flesh of Maedhros’ lower lip.

They breathed each other’s air as their foreheads rested together, Fingon’s nerves alight and buzzing, sending shivers down his spine.

Bright and shining and warm, Fingon let his Fëa reach out to seek Maedhros' own, then flinched back when his soul was met with darkness and cold. Maedhros’ head turned away, once more hoping to escape Fingon’s gaze.

"I can’t," he muttered. "I’m not as I was. You wouldn’t recognise me if you saw."

Fingon’s Fëa tried to draw nearer to its mate once more, but Maedhros’ soul shied away and backed off.

"You don’t want to know…"

He stared down at his wrist, where his right arm now ended in white linen bandages, and Fingon’s eyes followed his gaze, tarrying silently on the place where Maedhros’ hand once had been. He had seen the injuries and scars Maedhros’ torment had left on his body, from the scratches and abrasions to the wounds on his back and the broken bones of his ribs, and he had held his breath and bit his tongue at the sight of the damage the Vala had wrought on Maedhros’ form. Still, he could only imagine the destruction he had brought to his soul.

He closed his hand around Maedhros’ left and nudged their noses together softly, their lips almost touching as he spoke.

"I would still see all of you." He squeezed Maedhros’ palm and placed his other hand on the side of his cousin’s neck, feeling his pulse. "In your own time."

He gave an encouraging smile as he let his lips meet his cousin’s in a barely-there touch, revelling in the flutter of Maedhros’ heartbeat under his palm and the sensation of the Fëanorian’s severed arm coming to rest around his shoulders, pulling him in. 

The kiss grew more forceful as Maedhros moved forward and drew Fingon close, chapped lips pressed against Fingon’s and his tongue seeking entrance. Fingon felt his heart soar as he parted his lips, meeting Maedhros’ tongue with his own and letting his cousin lick into his mouth. His Fëa ached to reach out again but Fingon held it back, forcing all of his attention to focus on the sensation of Maedhros in his arms, alive and safe, and all the more beautiful and strong for the pain he’d been through.

He let go of Maedhros’ hand and sank his fingers into dark red hair, drawing a moan from Maedhros’ throat as he tugged at the strands. Maedhros held on to his waist before fumbling with the hem of Fingon’s tunic, and their kiss broke apart when the cold of Maedhros’ hand found his skin. 

The younger Elf gasped and Maedhros dropped his head to bury his face in the curve of Fingon’s neck, biting down on the muscles as his hand slid up to Fingon’s chest until his thumb traced lightly over a nipple.

Fingon’s breathing shuddered at the touch, and when Maedhros looked up once again, Fingon put all of his emotions into the kiss he pressed to his lips. He held on for as long as he dared, hoping to convey all that his Fëa could not and waiting for their lungs to scream for air before letting go.

Their hearts beat in time with each other as they both took shuddery breaths. Then Maedhros swallowed and his hand moved to grip Fingon’s side.

"How can you still want me like this?"

His head turned away.

A smile graced the corners of Fingon’s lips as he tucked a lock of soft auburn hair behind his cousin’s ear. He let his gaze roam over the body before him, taking in the pallid skin stretched tight over sinews and bones, the bandaged wrist, and the darkness under Maedhros’ eyes. All the beauty and strength he’d fallen in love with, laid bare and raw.

He trailed his fingers through Maedhros’ curls, making his cousin look up.

"I will always want you, Nelyo," he stated simply, the name still rolling off his tongue as easily as years ago.

For a moment, Maedhros seemed stunned, his expression frozen in a lack of understanding. Then his lips twisted into something akin to a smile for the first time since his rescue, and Fingon felt his chest constrict almost painfully around the fast-beating heart trapped within. The green of Maedhros’ eyes held a spark of amazement as he matched Fingon’s gaze.

He pulled his cousin into another kiss, and Fingon went gladly, moving forward on his knees as Maedhros shuffled back, until he was hovering over Maedhros’ form with his hands braced on either side of the older Elf’s head. Maedhros’ arms were still locked around his neck, his chest heaving.

Worry laced Fingon’s brows. “Is this alright?” Maedhros was still recovering. They had time; they could wait-

Maedhros’ voice cut him off.

"Finno." He breathed, his eyes strangely distant for a moment before he claimed his cousin’s lips once more.

His hand moved to tug at Fingon’s shirt, awkwardly pulling at the hem, and Fingon pushed his fears to the back of his head, breaking their kiss for barely enough time to pull the tunic over his head before leaning back down. His hand joined Maedhros’ as the Fëanorian struggled with the belt of his robe. When the fabric gave way, Fingon ran his hand across the worn, haggard ribs, being careful to avoid the healing fractures and the cuts that marred his skin.

The older Elf gasped.

"You are beautiful," Fingon whispered.

He trailed kisses down the curve of Maedhros’ neck, across his collarbones and the scars on his chest, moving down to his stomach and lingering on the sharp blades of his hipbones. He could feel the heat of Maedhros’ arousal on his skin, the thick shaft already half-hard, and Fingon longed to close his lips around him, to swallow him down and feel him in his throat. Yet he waited, breathing in the familiar smell he had missed so much, the pure, heady scent of flesh and sweat.

His hand traced down the other side of Maedhros’ hips, then on to his inner thigh, and Maedhros suddenly flinched as if burned. His legs tried to close and Fingon pulled back, hands hovering over Maedhros’ knees without touching.

The marks on Maedhros’ thighs seemed to almost be screaming now, and Fingon wondered how he had ever been able to forget about them. He had seen them before, red welts like scratches etched into the flesh, but the scars were everywhere, mapping all of Maedhros’ body, and Fingon had hoped- Hadn’t let himself think-

His mouth felt suddenly dry; his breathing stuck in his lungs. His eyes sought out Maedhros’—wide and brimming with emotion—and the look on Maedhros’ face was filled with pain, with shame, and regret.

"I am sorry," he muttered. "I did not wish for you to know..." He closed his eyes and turned his head, taking a few shaky breaths.

Fingon leaned down and softly kissed the bandages around Maedhros’ wrist.

"I love you," he stated firmly, his voice choked on a whirlwind of feelings, "I am sorry I couldn’t save you before he could hurt you like that..."

"You saved me. When you had every right to wish me dead."

Fingon shook his head. "You are not guilty of the acts of your kin. And even if you were, I do not think it would have mattered. I would have forgiven you as I have forgiven your brothers. Yet there is nothing to forgive." He swallowed and managed a smile when Maedhros looked up. "I could never hate you, Nelyo. I would have given my life to bring you back." 

Maedhros’ eyes seemed turbid as he gazed on his cousin in silence. 

"I can never repay you."

"I would not ask you to." Fingon smiled again. "You are here. Safe. Alive. That is all that I want."

For a few long moments Maedhros looked at him in wonder, then he raised his hand to Fingon’s cheek and leaned up for a kiss. Fingon opened his mouth, letting Maedhros’ tongue slip inside and lick over his lips, deepening the kiss until the caress once more grew heated and Fingon withdrew.

"There is plenty of time. If you do not wish to continue this tonight, there is no rush."

Maedhros swallowed. "I want him gone."

He tugged his cousin down once more into a slow, deep kiss filled with warmth and trust and intimacy and lacking all hurry, and Fingon succumbed to the closeness he had longed for so much.

He hesitated when their kiss broke apart, gingerly placing his palm on Maedhros’ waist, smoothing his thumb across the prominent ribs. 

"Would you let me touch your Fëa?" The question was spoken quietly. "Not to meld our souls if you don’t wish it, but merely to hold- So that I can feel..."

Maedhros bit his lip, his throat working as he considered.

Then he closed his eyes, and Fingon suppressed a gasp as he felt the tentative, cold brush of Maedhros’ Fëa against his own. Carefully, Fingon let his soul move closer, shifting forward, until their Fëar were aligned and Fingon could feel the Fëanorian’s spirit quiver nervously under his touch. 

A wave of love and affection burst forth from Fingon’s core, sweeping through his body from his heart to his fingertips and clouding his thoughts.

He braced his hand next to Maedhros’ head, bringing their faces together so their noses were touching. Maedhros’ Fëa seemed to warm where it was pressed against Fingon’s.

"Finno," Maedhros groaned, and Fingon nodded.

"Let me get something."

Maedhros took a steadying breath as Fingon pulled back and got off the mattress to walk to the dresser. Stepping out of the rest of his clothes, Fingon picked up one of the salves he used to tend his cousin’s wounds, then turned back to the bed. He stopped for a moment to take in the sight of his lover—his destined—naked and waiting, and Maedhros seemed to be doing the same. Their Fëar still held on to one another, the connection not quite a bond, but glowing with a steady light, strong and secure all the same.

Fingon climbed back onto the bed again, settling between Maedhros’ legs. His hand was cautious as he laid it on Maedhros’ hip, his eyes looking up to seek confirmation. 

Maedhros nodded. 

"Let me know if it becomes too much." 

Fingon traced circles into his skin before guiding his hand lower, stroking the side of Maedhros’ thigh.

Maedhros shuddered but didn’t jerk back, and Fingon felt a rush of relief as he set the small jar of salve to the side and bowed down to connect their lips in another kiss. 

His hand moved up again, coming to rest next to Maedhros’ cock that was now lying almost completely soft against his stomach, and Fingon smiled when Maedhros canted his hips.

"I want to taste you." Fingon’s voice was a whisper as he shaped the words against Maedhros’ lips. "I want to feel you in my throat again, taking my mouth... Is that alright?"

The older Elf groaned, twisting his fingers into Fingon’s dark hair and wrapping his arm around his neck.

"Please, ah-" Maedhros’ head fell back into the pillow with a moan as Fingon’s hand closed around his flesh. "Cousin..."

He kept his hand wound tight into the long black tresses of Fingon’s hair, his eyes dark and dazed as Fingon sat back on his heels and bent to press a soft, reverent kiss to the spot just below the head of Maedhros’ cock.

Fingon closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations running through him. The smell of Maedhros’ skin, the weight of his shaft in Fingon’s hand, the softness, the heat, the trust and the love and the familiarity.

_It had been so long._

He gave the twitching length a few slow strokes, feeling it gradually stiffen in his grasp before guiding the tip between his lips and pressing his tongue against the slit.

Maedhros’ back arched off the bed, his thighs tense and trembling as he gasped for air. His grip tore sharply at Fingon’s hair, and the pain shot through Fingon’s scalp just as the bitter, salty taste of Maedhros’ flesh filled his mouth. Their Fëar ground together, striking sparks. 

Fingon moaned.

_Just this. Just them. Together. Forever._

_Nothing else._

It wouldn’t last. Couldn’t last. But Fingon would have given whatever was needed to keep them in this moment, to keep them safe, to always taste and see and smell and hear and feel his one love’s body and soul so close.

He shut his eyes and lowered his head, until the head of Maedhros’ cock was nestled into his throat and his lips were stretched taught around the base of the shaft. His nose was pressed into Maedhros’ lower belly, and Fingon let himself bask in the sensation of fullness for a moment before pulling back and hollowing his cheeks, hearing his cousin give a breathless groan. A tremor ran through the older one’s body as Fingon moved his hand to caress Maedhros’ balls. He held the tip of the shaft between his lips to give a suck before sliding back down, the flat of his tongue against the vein on the underside of Maedhros’ cock. A moan escaped Fingon’s lips as he felt Maedhros swell in his mouth, the hardening flesh giving a twitch as it was swallowed down once more.

Fingon repeated the process, withdrawing almost completely before letting the length slip into his throat again and again, arousal pooling in his groin and making him throb with want. 

The hand in his hair moved away, then came back as if struggling for control.

Fingon pulled off.

"You can fuck me, I don’t mind. I want you to."

He reached down to give himself a few tugs, relieving the pressure that coiled in his guts.

"Go as hard as you wish."

His other hand touched Maedhros’ hip as he parted his lips around the older Elf’s cock again, his mouth going slack. He could sense Maedhros hesitate, could feel his fingers trembling against his head before finally tightening their grip and bearing down. His hips thrust up and Fingon grinned, unable to keep his lips from curving up despite the length pushing into his mouth. 

Years ago, an age ago, Maedhros had held him just like this, had forced him down and fucked his skull, and Fingon had gagged and coughed and hoped it would never end. They had been careless, young and curious, and so stupidly, madly in love that neither of them had thought they could ever be parted. They had been rough, and they had been playful, and even though things had changed and would never be the same, a part of it felt undeniably, blessedly, familiar.

Maedhros moved, and a choked, blissful moan clogged Fingon’s throat.

His fingers squeezed around the base of his cock as he swallowed and gasped, the pace now fast and unyielding, though Fingon could tell that his cousin was still holding back. It would take time for them to be as sure of one another as they once were. It would take years. Perhaps even decades. But they would be fine. Fingon knew they’d be fine.

He dared to glance up as his throat was stretched once more around the head of Maedhros’ cock, and a shock wave of light and pleasure and heat burst from their Fëar through his chest and to his limbs, so powerful that Fingon feared he had come without warning. His mouth filled with Maedhros’ release and he hastened to swallow as the fluid dripped down his chin. His eyes looked for Maedhros’, but found them screwed shut, his head thrown back and his breathing fast, his hold on Fingon’s hair tight and desperate as he thrust up weakly. 

His muscles quivered, then his hand dropped down by his side and he caught Fingon’s gaze with dark, bleary eyes. His cock was still hard as Fingon pulled off.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t-" Maedhros managed before his lips were covered by Fingon’s, and the words were lost in a kiss. Fingon’s tongue licked into his mouth, sharing his taste, and both of them were trembling when they parted for breath.

Fingon’s hand slid down to cup Maedhros’ cock.

"What do you want?"

He pressed the heel of his palm against the head, causing Maedhros to gasp.

"Just you..." Maedhros breathed. "However you wish."

Fingon smiled and kissed his lips.

"I only want you," Maedhros muttered again.

Settling back on his heels Fingon grabbed for the salve, then carefully moved to place his knees on either side of Maedhros’ waist, straddling his hips. Maedhros’ hand came up to rest on his thigh. The flicker of nervousness had returned to his eyes at the sight of the salve, but he met Fingon’s gaze. 

"It’s for me," Fingon soothed. "If you want..."

He ran a hand up Maedhros’ chest, easing his heartbeat.

"I wish to ride you. Like I used to. Feel you moving inside me, slow and deep. Make you feel good." His head bent down, and his lips brushed the corner of Maedhros’ mouth. "I want you to come in me and fill me up. Until there’s nothing but us. Nothing but this."

He kissed Maedhros’ neck, and Maedhros turned his head until their lips met softly, tenderly.

"Nothing but us," Maedhros agreed.

He squeezed Fingon’s thigh and then swallowed when Fingon sat back and opened the jar. "I’m not sure if I can... With my left..."

He glanced at the wrist of his right, and Fingon gave him an unworried smile when he looked back up.

"It will be fine. I will help."

Still smiling, Fingon took Maedhros’ hand in his own, raising it to his mouth and pressing a kiss into his palm. He dipped Maedhros’ fingers into the jar, then set it aside to help him cover the digits with salve.

"It’s alright," he whispered as he guided their hands between his legs. Their fingertips brushed his rim, cold and slick, and Fingon forced his muscles to relax, taking a breath. Gently but insistently, he pushed against Maedhros’ finger. His mouth fell open with a sigh when it finally slipped inside, and Maedhros looked up at him with wide-blown, questioning eyes.

Fingon nodded. 

_So long. It had been so long._

After all these years, the sensation of something inside him, even a single finger, was strange and overwhelming, almost bordering on uncomfortable, and still-

It was Maedhros. So Fingon needed more.

"You can move. Please."

He closed his eyes and pushed back, feeling the digit press deeper, still deeper, until it was all the way in. Maedhros paused for a moment before moving his finger, then adding another at Fingon’s behest. His left hand was clumsy, his movements halting as he searched, and Fingon was inevitably reminded of their first awkward experiments as youths in Maedhros’ chambers. It had felt right—his legs spread wide and his cousin between them, both of them drunk on love and wine—but it hadn’t felt _good_ until Maedhros had found that one spot inside him that made him see stars. After that, it had always been easy.

Now, though, Maedhros was struggling again, and Fingon leaned down for a kiss when the older Elf made a sound of frustration and apologized.

“Here,” Fingon whispered, and his hand slid further between his thighs to probe his own entrance. His finger pressed in next to Maedhros’, and his muscles tensed up, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he bit back a groan.

He thrust in testingly, carefully. Then his jaw dropped open with a silent cry as their fingers brushed the spot they’d been seeking. White light crossed his vision as Maedhros crooked his digits again, and Fingon brought his free hand up to clutch Maedhros’ chest. His eyes closed in bliss and his head fell to Maedhros’ collarbone, his breathing hot on the other Elf’s skin and their cocks pressed together where they were trapped between their stomachs. "So good."

They moved together, slowly, surely, until Fingon sat up and their fingers slipped free. His hips still rocked back against the length of his cousin’s shaft. Maedhros bucked, his hand coming up to grip Fingon’s waist as he tried to hold still.

“You are so stunningly beautiful,” Fingon muttered. “Still here. Still with me.”

He raised Maedhros’ right arm to his thigh so the stump came to lay by his hip, mimicking the position of his left.

“I want you so much.”

Green eyes met dark blue, and Maedhros looked up at him in silence for several seconds. Then his Fëa reached out and held Fingon close, and Fingon was flooded with trust, love, and need where their souls were entwined.

He squeezed the hand on his hip and they both held their breath.

The tip of Maedhros’ cock brushed his hole when he moved, and then Fingon pressed back, his eyes never leaving the depth of his cousin’s as he braced himself on his shoulder. They gasped as the head slipped inside, their bodies connecting and a raw, blinding shudder wracking through their Fëar.

Fingon smiled at the faint jolts of pain that ran up his spine at the new, sudden stretch, ignoring the hints of discomfort and sinking down further until he was seated with shaking legs in Maedhros’ lap. His eyelids fluttered as he basked in the fullness, the feeling of Maedhros inside him and under him and holding him, his cousin’s hand rubbing his thigh and his chest heaving shallowly.

They fit like two parts of a whole, their bodies conjoining and merging into one, all the pieces that Fingon had missed in the years since their exile now falling into place to make them complete. The feeling was violent, yet beautiful beyond the light of the trees or the three cursed stones that determined their fates.

His hands wound their way into his lover’s red hair, his body sagging forward, and Maedhros wrapped his arms around him tightly and firmly as their lips found together and their hearts beat as one. Their movements were careful at first, their breaths warm and damp on each other’s cheeks as Fingon rocked back and pleasure took over. 

The pain was erased when Maedhros thrust up and struck the spot that made Fingon keen. 

"Please-"

His muscles contracted around Maedhros’ shaft, and the word was a scratch in his throat as his hips pushed back harder. The thick smell of lust filled his lungs, and Fingon felt close, so close he could feel his skin flushed and sweaty, the heat of Maedhros’ cock, and the need that spread through his veins like flames in a hearth. Their Fëar seemed to vibrate, to rise up and writhe, and Fingon felt more than heard Maedhros’ voice when he rasped his name.

"Finno."

The sound was strained and breathless, as close to the edge as Fingon himself. Maedhros’ hand crept down between their stomachs, fingers closing around Fingon’s erection, but Fingon shook his head.

"Hold me..." he panted, "Just hold-"

Without Maedhros’ arms wrapped around him and holding him close, Fingon feared he would crumble apart.

His right hand still buried in the older one’s mane, he moved his left to feel Maedhros’ chest. Then he clutched at the curve of his shoulder and neck. His palms were wet, but he felt Maedhros’ pulse racing fast like his own, and a new spark of bliss flared up in his core whenever his body was filled.

He gasped into his cousin’s mouth, the sensations too much and yet not enough. He begged, "Nelyo, please-"

_Just a little bit harder, a little bit more-_

He cried out and tensed as Maedhros bucked up, his thrusts fast and deep while his arms held him close, and then Fingon was pulled into a kiss as the pleasure built to a crest. His body unravelled, his Fëa soaring up, and the white light that burst from their souls filled the room as they found their release. Somewhere in the deafening noise and the rush, he could hear his own name falling from Maedhros’ lips.

He clung to the feeling of Maedhros’ skin as his muscles gave out, his head buried into the crook of Maedhros’ neck. The aftershocks wracked down his spine as he panted for air. Maedhros’ hand slipped into his hair, dissolving what was left of Fingon’s neat braids. His ribcage was rising and falling heavily as his breath trailed over the side of Fingon’s head.

It took Fingon several moments before he became aware of their positions and raised himself up with a sigh, the spent length of Maedhros’ cock slipping free from his hole. The clammy sensation of seed and cold sweat now clung to his skin, but Fingon didn’t mind.

His gaze searched for Maedhros’, and his cousin looked up through the veil of his lashes. His eyes were at ease as he met Fingon’s gaze, the worry and pain momentarily gone from the dark pools of green. The features of his face seemed relaxed for what was likely the first time in years.

He ran a hand through Fingon’s hair, his lips curving up, though he didn’t quite manage a smile. 

Their Fëar were still tangled, buzzing gently and glowing with a soft, steady light. There was darkness still hidden in the recesses of Maedhros’ soul, behind the defenses and the now warm outer shell, but the shadows were calm and reluctant, and Fingon was wary not to stir them from their rest.

He laid down on his side and brought an arm around the older Elf’s waist, his head resting carefully on Maedhros’ shoulder. His eyelids fell shut but then opened again at the sound of a voice.

"I will think of a way to repay you and your kin for your pain and your hardships," Maedhros said, "and to make up for the risk that you took on my behalf."

His words were a quiet, low rumble as they moved through his chest.

Fingon shook his head. "Remain by my side for as long as you can, and I will fain consider my hardships repaid."

Maedhros’ nose nudged the top of his head.

“I will stay with you,” he returned, “for as long as I may.”

His heartbeat was calm, though Fingon could sense that his mind had not closed on the issue just yet. Craning his neck to meet Maedhros’ mouth, he decided to let it slide and to disperse the stubborn thoughts with a kiss. His lips shaped a smile as their Fëar sparked up.

His chest filled with warmth.

“I am glad,” Fingon murmured as their breaths evened out and exhaustion sank in. His fingers reached up to find soft crimson locks. “I’m glad you are back.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos or comments if you enjoyed this (or let me know if there was something you didn't enjoy). It is my first work in this fandom and I'm nervous as hell, so I would love to hear your feedback :)


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